


(T)o (R)eally (U)nderstand (S)ome (T)hings, You Have to be There

by Melawen_C



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melawen_C/pseuds/Melawen_C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s all about trust for Callen and Sam: 4 random things that might not have happened and 1 that most likely did. :)<br/>(#2 was stolen from Hetty’s story to Kensi and Deeks in the episode <i>Bounty</i>. That’s kind of what inspired this whole thing.)<br/>Enjoy!</p><div class="center">
  <p>______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	(T)o (R)eally (U)nderstand (S)ome (T)hings, You Have to be There

**(4)**

**Day 6.**

“Federal agent. Drop the gun,” Callen announced firmly, his weapon drawn and pointed at the back of their suspect.

The man spun and fired. Callen ducked out of the kitchen, dodging the shots.

_They never listen,_ he thought irritably. 

Gun at the ready, he slipped through the kitchen into the living room, but it was empty. This guy was quick and he was quiet. _Bad combination_. 

Suddenly, two shots rang out. Callen turned in time to see the man fall gracelessly to the floor, his weapon clattering on the tile.

Behind him stood Sam.

Callen met his partner’s gaze. He gave him a nod and a shaky smile of gratitude, but Sam didn’t smile back.

~ ~ ~

“Can we get something to eat? I’m starving,” Callen complained later as they walked down the street to their car, finally able to leave the scene.

Without warning, Sam swung and punched him in the shoulder.

“ _Ow!_ The hell was that for?” he shouted, holding his arm.

Sam stepped directly in front of him, hands on his hips, eyes narrowed. “What were you thinking back there?”

Callen frowned and turned around, as if the answer were displayed somewhere behind him.

“You didn’t wait for my signal to go in,” Sam clarified.

“I improvised a little… I had an opportunity and I took it.”

Sam crossed his arms and scowled. “We’re _partners_. We have to _work together_ , that’s how it goes. What if I hadn’t been able to get to you in time? You almost got yourself killed!”

“But I didn’t.” Callen gave a confident smile.

“Swear to God, G, I will kill you _myself,_ right here,” Sam threatened in a low tone, stepping closer. “If I can’t trust you to-”

“Alright!” Callen held up his hands in surrender. “I'm sorry. Next time, I’ll … wait for your signal.”

Sam glared at him, but Callen’s answer must have satisfied him, because he finally turned and continued toward the car. Callen jogged to catch up, falling in step with his partner.

“Were you really that worried about me?” he teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“ _G_.” Sam’s tone was a warning.

“Don’t worry,” Callen promised, “we’ve only been working together for, what, six days? You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Damn right I won’t,” Sam muttered.

 

**(3)**

**Day 781.**

Kensi Blye knew she worked for a government agency, but right now, it felt more like summer camp.

Hetty had spontaneously decided that some ‘team-building’ needed to happen before their next job could begin… which is why they were all gathered in the workout room.

Everything had been moved out of the way and someone (Kensi suspected Eric) had constructed an elaborate maze of string from one end of the room to the other. The objective was to successfully navigate through it while blindfolded, using only their partner’s directions to guide them.

Sam and Callen were up first, naturally.

There’d been a hushed debate over which of them would traverse the maze and which would give directions. Kensi was surprised to see Sam tie the blindfold over his eyes. Callen smirked victoriously and she heard Sam threaten some sort of bodily harm if G messed this up for them.

Sometimes she wondered how they ever worked together. Although she had to admit, they were good at this… even if Callen’s directions were a bit unorthodox. It wasn’t just _left, right,_ or _forward, backward_ it was alarmingly descriptive: _turn to your right and duck underneath, like you would under crime scene tape, but do it as if you’re twenty minutes late_ and _three steps back, like that dancer in Madrid._

Perhaps the most alarming part of it, though, was that Sam never had to ask him to clarify anything. She supposed when you’d worked with someone for more than two years, like Callen and Sam, you could get away with that.

“Ok, Sam, we’re getting to the end now. Straight ahead nine steps, then left for two and you’re out.”

Sam paused. “My nine or your nine?” he called out.

“Do you even have to ask?” Callen shot back.

“That’s what I thought,” Sam said, taking eight steps forward and two to the left, making a clean exit out of the maze.

“Nice work,” Callen congratulated, slapping his partner on the shoulder.

“Wait just a minute, gentlemen,” Hetty’s voice rang out, stopping them in their tracks.

“What was _that?”_

She sounded as though she’d gone to a nice restaurant and found a hair in her meal. Kensi bit down on her cheek to keep from laughing.

“That was us getting through the maze,” Sam answered.

“Rather impressively, I’d say,” Callen added. 

“With _those_ directions?” she asked incredulously. “It was like listening to a bad translation of a foreign film! Not to mention that numbers are _not_ subjective, Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna. There is no ‘my' nine or 'your' nine.”

“There is when G counts,” Sam assured her.

Callen shrugged unapologetically. “He knows I always miscalculate by one when it’s more than six steps.”

“He forgets I have longer legs,” Sam said smugly as his partner glared at him.

Hetty merely shook her head in exasperation.

“You’re both insane,” Kensi announced.

They grinned at her in agreement.

“Hey, Hetty… can we keep the blindfold?” Callen asked eagerly.

Hetty waved her hand in a gesture that clearly meant _‘Do what you want and please don’t tell me about it.’_

Kensi couldn’t have agreed more.

 

**(2)**

**Day 30.**

Sam Hanna had been working with his new partner for a month and he couldn’t figure the guy out.

Sam did most things by the book. He liked order and he liked having a plan and Callen wasn’t like that; he was a trouble-maker. He didn’t play by the normal rules, he liked to joke around and be spontaneous and he picked on Sam for _everything_ – his coffee, his clothes, his taste in music… It was all Sam could do some days not to smack him on the side of the head and tell him to get it together.

But when G. Callen went undercover… well, that was a sight to see. He was serious then, all business with no room for mistakes or games. He managed to transform himself into someone new. He was inscrutable and fully absorbed in his role. It was damn impressive.

He was undercover right now and he had a gun pointed at Sam’s head.

Sam decided to add ‘terrifying’ to that list of adjectives.

The case involved the Armenian mob and Callen was their inside man. He’d been getting close these past few days and they’d hoped this meeting would give them the name of the mob’s contact… but there were too many of them and Sam hadn’t liked it. Callen was out of his sight but he could hear that the men inside were suspicious. Callen was doing his best to spin a good lie and save his cover, but it didn’t sound like enough. Sam had moved in too fast, too worried, and he’d gotten caught.

So, he was on his knees on the floor of a warehouse and G’s gun was aimed at his head, while the round-faced, angry Armenian mob leader threatened him, saying that if he didn’t shoot, they’d kill _him._

Shit.

Callen’s finger was on the trigger now and his expression was tight, controlled. Sam stared back unflinchingly.

When he squeezed the trigger, the empty _click_ was by far the best noise Sam had ever heard. He let out a sigh of relief and, though it was barely noticeable, he saw Callen do the same.

If they made it out of this alive, Sam might kill him.

~ ~ ~

“You could tell from the _weight_ that it wasn’t loaded?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Callen said.

Sam crossed his arms. “And you were a hundred percent sure about that?”

“Maybe ninety-seven percent sure,” Callen joked, but Sam found that it didn’t bother him this time and he smiled back.

“Uh huh. I gotta say, you had me a little worried, man,” Sam said, trying to sound casual.

Callen looked at him wide-eyed.

“I had _you_ worried? I almost… I thought they’d… _Jesus,_ Sam, it scared the hell out of me!”

“You just said you were sure it wasn’t loaded!”

“They still could’ve killed you! And what if I was wrong?” 

Suddenly, Sam understood that he hadn’t really seen _Callen_ , not until today. The crazy, unpredictable man who quoted bad comedians and slept four hours a night and sang horribly in the car, yeah, that was Callen too (part of him), but Sam knew now that his partner had his back. He didn’t need to worry about all the other details; they’d figure that out along the way.

Sam’s answer was simple: “I guess I’ve got to trust you.”

“Thanks,” Callen said quietly, staring down at his hands. “I'm just not sure if I should trust myself all the time.”

 

**(1)**

**Day 412.**

“I'm going for a run,” Sam announced as he left the office.

Three hours later, Callen’s phone rang and, on the other end, Sam’s tired voice asked: _Come get me?_

“I always do,” Callen answered.

Some men coped with bad days by getting drunk; Sam Hanna ran until he couldn’t run anymore.

When Callen found him, he was sitting on the curb of a side street, hugging his knees like a lost little boy and Callen couldn’t help but smile. He was pretty sure he was the only one who ever saw Sam like this and that was fine by him. He wasn’t too good at sharing. 

“Did you think you could run this entire city?” Callen called to him out the passenger window as he pulled up beside him. “You’re not a machine, you know.”

That earned a weak smile from Sam.

“Get in,” Callen ordered, “and tell me where to go.”

“Just take me home, G,” he said quietly.

They drove the whole way in silence, with the windows down and the cool night air rushing over them. Callen didn’t need to look over at Sam to know he was still upset, but he did every now and again just to see.

Sam caught his eye a time or two and gave him a look that said he could see what G was doing and, really, he was fine. Callen raised his eyebrow skeptically each time.

When he got to Sam’s place, Sam got out of the car without a word or a wave good-bye, like he expected Callen to follow him. So, Callen did. He understood their unspoken conversations pretty well by now.

He was barely inside before Sam had him pressed up against the door, holding him there with his hands and his mouth.

_That was more like it._

Callen pressed back as closely as he could. There was something about the way Sam smelled after a run that he loved; it was familiar, intimate.

“Talk to me,” Sam murmured as they crawled into the large, unmade bed, his mouth marking the skin over Callen’s collarbone.

He knew what Sam wanted. On nights like this – slow, desperate nights – he wanted to be reminded that Callen trusted him. Sam let himself be vulnerable and he wanted Callen to open up to him, too. He didn’t want to feel alone. 

So for every kiss Sam left on his body, Callen gave him a secret in return. He told Sam his best memories and his worst dreams. He whispered all the thoughts that ran wild in his mind on sleepless nights. He let his hands and his mouth wander greedily on Sam’s body as he told Sam his fears. He felt himself come undone beneath Sam’s touch and confessed his desires into the darkness around them until neither of them could speak any more.

Much later, he fell asleep to the deep, even sound of Sam breathing next to him. 

This was the closest he’d ever let anyone get to him and Sam knew it, even though that was the one thing Callen never admitted.

 

**(+1)**

**Any Given Day.**

There are very few things Hetty Lang does not know, but how Agents G. Callen and Sam Hanna learned to trust each other is one of them. That’s part of the reason she enjoys making up dramatic stories about how it might’ve happened. A girl’s gotta get her kicks _somewhere…_

Truth is, they just _do_ \- get along, that is - and it’s a simple, beautiful thing. They are so in-tune with each other. It makes them perfect partners, but it also means Hetty is constantly suspicious.

Like, now.

“Sam? You’ve got the, uh…”

“Right here, G,” Sam answers, handing over expense reports from their latest trip – neatly typed and on-time, which is odd.

“Oh,” Sam adds, “and be sure to give her the-”

Callen pulls car keys out of his pocket with a flourish and drops them in Hetty’s outstretched hand.

They flash identical, far-too-innocent smiles down at her.

She purses her lips and frowns at them for a minute, trying to figure out what they could possibly be up to this time. She quickly decides it’s probably better if she does not find out.

Hetty may never know what it is that makes Sam and Callen so good together but, then again, some things are better left unknown.

 

**(end.)**


End file.
